Progress Report: Dismal

[nepenthe]

 
I am not progressing the way I wish I'd progress.

The above is an accurate assessment of my writing. I forced myself to delete the first sentence I wrote which was flat out that I wasn't making any progress. That is not true. I wrote about three pages of critical story today. I'll liable to write a few sentences more before bed.

The reason why I'm disappointed in me is that it's not enough and I don't have excuses. I've had the time.  Last weekend and this weekend I had practically nothing that needed doing, only writing. I have the resources: plenty of my favorite journal and pens and my computer is functioning. Procrastination, I am a citizen of of your country.

But I might be suffering from more than simply procrastination. Weirdly, I've been feeling anxious and intimidated by the scope of what I'm doing. There's also the snowball effect where when I don't meet my goal yesterday or the week before, there's no way I can catch up (of course there is!) and being so far behind makes me feel like a failure since I honestly feel like I set the bar to a low, achievable level, so if I'm already a failure what's the point in even trying to catch up? Then I do nothing and the next day I'm EVEN FURTHER BEHIND.

That is stupid thinking. It is defeatist. It's the kind of insidious thought that keeps me muzzled to a telephone at a bad job. It doesn't let the story out and caged stories bite and scratch and tear away at your insides.

There's been lots of good, productive Life Things I've done. I've organized a planning session to sync up San Diego Comic-Con schedules with my friends. I've gone over the SDCC schedule. No Doctor Who party or panel this year. At a glance, it appears that I'll be spending a LOT of time at how-to panels and advice about not only writing but marketing and writing queries and pitches.  I know, I know. VERY aspirational. That's all I am these days. But the more you know, right?

Don't even start me on my day job. When GISHWES ends after the first week of August, it will be time to dust off the old resume and begin job hunting: the dreaded, agonizing, painful and humiliating Job Hunt. But if it means I end up with a job that's less phone/customer service based and $12/hr (dare I dream more?), I WILL BE MOVING UP IN THE WORLD.

No more journaling. Nor self-pity. That's enough for the week; I've plenty going really well for me. 

Word count: Three written pages
WC goal: 500 words between tonight and tomorrow night.